The Slow Turning Tide
by Ellie 5192
Summary: "She was not so unaware of herself as to not notice the road they were travelling, step by step, dinner after dinner; family invitations one after the other until the extra dining set at the table was always hers." Shandy, no longer a one-shot. Unknown chapters to come.
1. The Slow Turning Tide

_I have been absent far too long (sorry), and thought it was time to get back into Sharon's head for a while before this hiatus from hell finally ends. Unashamedly Shandy fluff. (Also, I must pay my respects to Isolith, whose writing I have been re-reading lately, which undoubtedly shows in the style of this piece. Shine on Iso)_

**The Slow Turning Tide**

As she slowly closed her front door, lingering to watch him walk down the corridor, a smile crept upon her. He was thoroughly endearing; calmer than he had been those first few dinners. Not that they had been tense or awkward, but they were born out of her invitations with his family and had slowly evolved from there. She was pleased to note that the evolution had brought them this far. Her body still remembered when they touched. Not in a fanciful schoolgirl crush type of way, but like muscle memory – the feel of his hand on her back, guiding her; the touch of his palms on her shoulders as he settled her jacket around her; the kiss to her cheek, their usual ritual, platonic and yet intimate. Burning, yet hardly a long enough touch to matter.

She felt the urge to wipe the spot, the way one might wipe away an eyelash. Foolishly – perhaps exactly like a schoolgirl after all – she left it to tingle with the thought of him. The door closed with a tiny click and she surveyed the quiet condo. Rusty had retreated to his room, ostensibly to sleep though she suspected he was probably downloading and watching television shows. It was good she upgraded her internet to an unlimited connection, or there would be hell to pay with the boy's usage. No matter, he was holed up for the night, so she wandered to her room to start getting ready for bed. It was getting late.

As she shed her jacket and stepped out of her heels, she thought over the night, and smiled again. It was a strange feeling to be so comfortable in her own skin, even as her whole world was shifting on its axis and settling in a different rotation around the routines she had gathered around like a blanket. Such a revelation shouldn't be so easy. Yet when she realised it was love, Sharon wasn't shocked, or afraid, or even embarrassed. It felt nice – simple – to finally put a name to the comfort she felt and the ease in his presence. To finally realise why she smiled so quickly and laughed so deeply and was content to simply sit in the silence with him and enjoy being in the same orbit.

She was not so unaware of herself as to not notice the road they were travelling, step by step, dinner after dinner; family invitations one after the other until the extra dining set at the table was always hers. If anything, she knew before him, she was sure of it – before he even realised what was happening between them and noticed her longer glances and softer touches. She was not certain he had noticed it at all yet, and his obliviousness was amusing to her. He was totally unaware of his own inner motivations, which made it so much easier to accept the role of friend and confidant. She may have been bitterly let down in her longest relationship to date – not so much failed, for nothing she could have done would have made a difference to the outcome, and it was not her failure to live with but Jack's. It was not a blight on her name, on the contrary, it only proved how susceptible she was to her emotions. Even in its vicious dying breath, her marriage was a testament to her love, if only for her new son.

For his part, she had to wonder if Andy would come to the same realisation she had, or if he was still wandering around in a baffled state of confusion, his fragile role as father on one side and their undefinable relationship on the other. For all Provenza's blustering, Andy was genuinely changing. He was softening around the edges, and though she wouldn't have cast a second thought if he had, she was almost certain he hadn't been on very many dinner evenings except with her. His focus was one-track; unwavering in its devotion to rebuilding his connection to his children and his new grandchildren. It was an incomparable sight to see, and so she could forgive him his ignorance; his efforts only warmed her heart.

And she wanted to believe that one day he would notice what was between them, if only so they could acknowledge it. She had no expectations for them. Hopes, certainly, she had many of those in secret. But no expectations, and yet, his behaviour suggested, well, something. He was bashful, not cocky – different completely to the way he acted with all other women, and she wasn't sure if she should read more into that. Their personal relationship was certainly founded on friendship, and in the beginning the dinners and family functions were for support not romance. He was never trying to woo her – perhaps to impress her on occasion, in order to also impress his family. But she never felt like a prize meal or a trophy, and perhaps that was the difference. She had no expectations, but she relished the affection all the same.

It didn't make her feel uncomfortable around him, this new sense of freedom; this ability to name the slight tightening in her chest and tingle in her fingertips. She was not drunk on love – it was not the quick kind, the kind twenty-something's fall into when they scurry quickly down the aisle, with heavy intoxication and the crippling hangover to match when it was all over and done. This love burned under her skin; could easily settle into a platonic affection if that was all to be given, because to grow old as friends would serve her heart just as surely as lovers. She had always believed that the best kind of romances started as the closest friendships, and with Andy they certainly had that in spades.

Still, she did harbour hope for them. It was not right at the moment; he wasn't ready, and even if he came to this knowledge tomorrow he still wouldn't be ready. Their priorities in this moment were their children, as it should be. After all, if they did move forward one day, a short wait wouldn't make the difference. All will turn out as it is supposed to, which is how she liked to approach all uncertain paths in her life.

With a start she realised she had drifted off with a vacant look, with her blouse half unbuttoned, one finger resting on her bottom lip in contemplation. She chided herself, amused really. Like a schoolgirl indeed.

A light tap on the front door startled her, and in a rush she fixed the three buttons that needed to be done up, padding barefoot out to the foyer. A brief glance showed no movement or even a flicker of light under Rusty's door. Either he didn't hear or he didn't care to investigate. Given his recent dealings with danger this blasé attitude was a minor miracle. Her lips quirked in happiness.

She opened the door, already anticipating who was behind it. Lo and behold, there he stood, looking apologetic and slightly amused, his eyes adjusting to the subtle height difference since she lost three inches in taking off her heels. She could see him trying not to notice the blood red nail polish she liked to treat herself with, and smirked a little. He took that as permission to relax, and held up his excuse for returning.

"I figured you'd need this" he said, waving her black wallet towards her. She took it gratefully. Truthfully she hadn't even noticed it was missing, distracted and relaxed after the evening. She'd thrown it clumsily into her bag when she was in his car, hoping to aim just right for it to land inside the top. Obviously her aim was off.

"I saw it on the passenger floor. If it was an umbrella or something, I'da given it to you tomorrow, but…"

He let the sentence hang. Obviously he had deemed it important enough to return to her as soon as possible, hence was standing at her door with a smug little look that she couldn't decipher.

"Thank you" she hummed softly, giving him a smile for his efforts. He only shrugged good-naturedly, not blowing off her thanks so much as downplaying himself; it was no trouble at all to bring the wallet back, he hadn't even started the car when he saw it.

"For the record, I could've kept it and gone on a spending spree with your credit cards, but apparently the cops are on to that sort of thing"

"Yes, I know people who know people – they would track you down"

He laughed, if only because their most recent case was a join FBI task force, heavy on the cyber-tracking and Tao was completely in his element the entire time, talking about the latest in policing software and digital footprints. She grinned with him; she could be funny sometimes. Perhaps he was one of the few who knew that.

"Anyway. I'll let you go" he said, his eye just briefly flicking to her feet and back up. It was obvious she had started to decompress and change for the night, and she got the impression that he was assessing her in a strange way. Not scrutinising, really, because he was not so critical, but perhaps cataloguing. He was certainly taking notice, and it was enough to please her. Again, she was not embarrassed, but simply drawn to him; completely comfortable, and why shouldn't she be. It was her house and her feet and he was, if nothing else, a close friend.

"Thanks again, Andy. I'll see you tomorrow" Her voice intoned up a little at the end, turning her statement into a sort of question. They both knew it was a work day, but she was searching for confirmation from him. Of what, she couldn't say.

"See you in the morning" he replied. His gaze was definitely fond when it landed squarely on her, of that she was certain. He smiled in that fond way he had, something she was seeing more and more of recently, and she smiled back, her eyes flicking down then up again, always a little shy to hold eye contact too long. "Sleep tight" he said. "Bed bugs, and all that"

She chuckled and rolled her eyes a little at his attempt to end the evening. It was a strange balance between intimacy and awkwardness – 'sleep well' felt too much like thinking of bed, or of imagining each other sleeping, which was not wholly appropriate; 'see ya later' felt like a brush off after such a warm evening. They settled for little waves as he slowly backed further down the hall towards the elevator bank. Still, he didn't take his eyes off her, and if she chose to analyse his expression too closely she might have found an answer to her earlier question. He may not be ready to name it the way she was, but everything from his stance to his expression told her what he felt.

"Goodnight" she lilted softly as her lips involuntarily pursed towards him and her hand gripped the door frame like support.

"Night" he whispered back. He turned and walked away with purpose then, already several paces from her door. She was glad for it. Had he lingered any longer she might have taken it the wrong way; might have invited him in for another coffee and given herself away with the look on her face. She knew he was getting better at reading her. She was almost surprised he hadn't realised her feelings already. Then again, his total ignorance made this all the funnier to her. She had the distinct feeling that the day she told him the truth he would choke on his tongue, his eyes bulging like a cartoon.

She closed the door with finality and did not linger, walking straight back to her room and continuing to get undressed for the night. The only thing that surprised her was how calm she was over this. She remembered love being all-consuming; being unbearable at times, with sweaty palms and giggle fits and butterflies in her stomach. Almost fearful in its intensity. Perhaps this love was different, or perhaps the years had tempered her and taught her a lesson. Either way, her calm acceptance over these monumental feelings was refreshing. She smiled to herself. It would all work out, she was sure. Time would tell, and when it did, she would only look back on these funny days and grin at his ignorance. But she was also certain she would love him still. That, at least, would not change soon.


	2. A Crashing Wave

_A few of you were interested in Andy's side of things, and I guess I was too. In terms of timeline, assume this is just 'in the future', I don't know when exactly._

_Also, Julia had the brilliant idea of having a '30 Days of Major Crimes' thing in countdown to the big event, so consider this my contribution to Day 30._

_Many thanks for all the kind reviews :) Enjoy._

**A Crashing Wave**

The moment took him so thoroughly by surprise that he sat with his mouth hanging open, a stunned look on his face. He was more than shocked; he was appalled at himself for not noticing sooner, and also giddy with excitement. A thousand possibilities flew through his mind, each more glorious than the last, the least of which was sweeping her right out of her chair and kissing her into breathlessness.

He was in love. Good lord, such a silly revelation to experience between the entrée and main. But he stared transfixed; he couldn't take his eyes away, and he was certain that he was undoubtedly in love with her. What's more, bafflingly, he had been there for so long that the realisation hardly felt like a change of gear at all. So this is what I've been feeling under the ribcage, he thought to himself, and indeed, for so long he could not understand his confounding actions and attitudes. Did not see the forest for the trees, what with all the dinners and the family events; even his general behaviours towards her had been markedly different. He treated her like he treated no other women, and that should have been clue enough.

The story that Nicole was telling continued, funnier and more absurd with each detail, and the endearing giggles that had taken Sharon just a moment ago turned into full-blown laughter as she threw her head back at the punchline. She was simply magnificent. That's all he could think as he watched her; she was transfixing in every way, from her smile, to her hands folded together in her lap, all the way to her foot that was slightly bobbing in the air, her legs crossed. Not that he could see under the table, but his imagination helpfully supplied the image.

He was startled by the waiter refilling his water glass next to his shoulder, and just as well or he would have made a fool of himself in front of the dinner party. He looked down at his place setting for a moment to get his bearings, but it was no use; he simply couldn't take his eyes off her for even a moment, not now that he knew; not now of all moments.

He tried to think back to the instant of change and couldn't find it; it simply didn't exist, or if it did it was obscured by the months of friendship and support she offered him in a tumultuous time. That they could sit here tonight – at a nice restaurant for Nicole's birthday – without awkwardness or repression said so much about the success she helped him create. He was sure that he could credit her with this peace. Perhaps not totally; he had worked very hard to achieve this bond again with his daughter. But if not for Sharon it would have been a longer, more gruelling road. She alone kept him steady in those rough tides.

Now that he had become aware of himself he was struck dumb. He could not open his mouth for fear it would all come tumbling out, and then what. If he was to tell her – and no doubt his idiot mouth would betray him one day – it could not be here. And how she would react to such news, he did not know; he could not say what her intentions had been only that she seemed to enjoy his company as much as he did hers. That could count for something. Or perhaps not. He was not sure. This was the same woman who took in a homeless teen as a temporary solution and ended up adopting him not three years later; who was to say if this was romance or merely loving solidarity. And he wouldn't insult her by putting words in her mouth.

He was thankfully knocked out of his reverie again by the arrival of the main course. God, and to think they would all want dessert and then coffee too. How on earth was he supposed to survive this night now, with his mind racing and his heart to match?

He made the mistake of catching her eye across the table, and she furrowed her brow in askance. He shook his head just a little to signal that he was fine and it might have been that his acting skills had improved because she didn't push, only devoted her attention back to Nicole. Thankfully his son-in-law spoke from beside him and gave him the perfect opportunity to look away. It was a hard task to do.

The remainder of the night was a struggle, if only because he had to maintain the delicate balance they had created; Nicole still did not fully believe they were not an item, and true, their behaviour did nothing to dissuade her. But they were also not distant from each other. They sat in a strange place, part professional and part desirous; it was any wonder Nicole got the wrong idea to begin with. If Sharon noticed anything out of place she didn't let on.

Once they were back in his car it was another matter. He could tell from the moment he pulled out of the parking lot that she had something she wanted to say to him. She shifted a little more onto her hip, facing him just fractionally from the passenger seat. He kept his eyes firmly on the road, but alas, as soon as they hit a red light she pounced.

"Andy, are you alright?" she drawled, lowly in her throat. He could feel her eyes on him, and he tried to shrug it off, smirking falsely as he flicked his gaze to her and then away again.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seemed a little tense" she said, not unkindly, but merely observant. Curious but not overly concerned. He was twitchy and short, but not angry. It could only be so many things without anger. The evening had been pleasant enough.

"I didn't mean to" he replied softly with a genuine smile. And that was the truth; despite the tumult of his emotions he did not want his musings to interrupt Nicole's evening. She would ask too many questions and his cagy answers would only put her on the defensive. He didn't want that, after so long opening up to her and breaking down those barriers. "Did Nic notice?"

Sharon smiled at his concern. "I don't think so, no"

"That's good. And I promise I'm fine"

"Alright. But you are tense" she said again, this time without question. Infuriating, that she could read him so spectacularly. "I'm here, if there's anything you need to talk about"

And oh, how it took all his willpower to remain silent. It would have been so simple to take her offer; just blurt the words and hope for the best. But even if he did intend on saying something tonight, which he most certainly was not, he would never ambush her in his car, half way home where she could not retreat at her own will. He knew her well enough to know that such deeply personal discussions should happen on her own turf. At his place, where she could retreat if needed, or at hers if he ever felt like he could predict her answer but wanted to put her at ease first. She was very private like that, which he could respect.

But a quick glance at her face showed him a strange sight; she was smiling at him, but in a perplexing way. It was almost as if she were humouring him, or maybe even laughing at him. He took his own advice and focussed solely on the road after that.

Did she suspect, he thought. Or more, did she know. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that she had this all figured out months ago, and of all people best equipped to read him these days it was Sharon. Her skills had far surpassed Provenza's, if only because her approach was so much more affable than the old man's. But how could she know, unless he had been so blatantly obvious. Then again, on reflection, he hadn't been paying attention to his own behaviour much, too wrapped up in his fatherly duties. If he'd been in love for some time – and his distinct comfort in the feeling told him he had been – then he wouldn't have even noticed an extra touch, a quiet look, a smile across the table. It was a crying shame, really. He felt like he had missed out on something.

Thankfully – and somewhat too soon – he pulled up in front of her building, the circular driveway allowing him to pull up right alongside her foyer doors.

"I'll walk you up" he said, though of course he had driven to the door rather than parked in the guest spot. They didn't have a set routine around goodbyes, but it was obvious he had unconsciously chosen to remain in the car for the evening.

"There's no need" she said softly. "Thank you, though. I had a lovely evening"

"Thank you for coming with me. I know Nicole was pleased to see you again, and I… well, I really enjoyed your company too"

He thought he saw her blush a little when she lowered her gaze, but he couldn't be sure. "I enjoyed the company also" she said shyly.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and collected her jacket and purse from across her lap, breathing their eye contact once more and allowing him a moment to breath. God, just looking at her now made him giddy with undisclosed desire. Desire to do what, he couldn't say – he was still processing his feelings. But a kiss wouldn't go astray. She turned to him in the last moment, her eyes piercing, and he almost audibly gulped under her gaze.

"Last chance" she chimed. "Are you sure there's nothing bothering you?"

He could only smile at her in reassurance, the question unanswered. To say there was not would be a lie – it was not every day one realised they were in love, and he was plenty bothered by it. But any other answer would feel like a half-truth. He settled for merely smiling, and nodding his head just enough in an undefinable direction to be a polite brush-off. But he held her gaze anyway, wrapped up in the moment with her, the both of them watching the other with intent and deep interest, though for completely different reasons. When he did not look away her expression softened even more, but to her credit she sat as still as him.

She was enchanting. Beautiful, yes, no doubt. But more than simply pretty; she was graceful, and kind, and warm-hearted, and about a thousand other things he never would have attributed to her for the first twenty years of their acquaintance. It was remarkable, weighing the woman he thought he knew from second-hand stories and the woman that was his friend. He could hardly believe how many facets she possessed, for she surely was the ruthless leader of the rat squad when she needed to be. He never knew a person could be so nuanced until he got to know Sharon.

"I just want you to know" she started, laying a soft hand on his sleeve. "That if you ever want to talk… about anything… I am here"

Without thought he turned his hand palm-up and quickly grasped hers, holding it firmly over the centre console. She seemed surprised by the gesture, though not displeased, and she eyed their hands with intense interest for a moment. He was almost afraid he had shocked her, and perhaps he had, for he rarely initiated a breach of personal space between them.

"I know" he said, lowly and with great affection.

She nodded at him, and he let her go as she made a polite but somewhat hasty retreat. In a blink she was out of the car and to the door, waving one last time over her shoulder as the doorman held the door for her. And then she was gone.

Strange. And here he thought his own behaviour would be baffling. Had he said something? Surely not, and upon reflection he couldn't find a single comment that would have offended her. Had he embarrassed her by his compliments? She was not a bashful woman, and she must have known that he enjoyed her presence as much as his daughter did, or he would not insist on bringing her along so frequently. He didn't think a compliment alone would be enough to have her scurry off.

Had he given himself away? Oh, that thought was the frightening one. Oh, he was useless at hiding his emotions, always had been, either positive or negative, it didn't matter. Perhaps he had held her eyes just too long, or was his smile too friendly, perhaps a little wistful. He could not judge for himself. He was too caught in his own head at the moment to be in any way objective.

But then, she hadn't rebuffed him, so perhaps she didn't mind so much. Maybe she was only shocked, but not offended. Maybe he could still rectify this with a kind word and, oh yes, he would bring her coffee in the morning to make amends. Her lack of denial was heartening, if only because he didn't want to sacrifice their beautiful friendship for the sake of his own stupidity. He could keep himself in check in the future, and there may come a time when he could tell her how he felt, but no matter, that time was certainly not now. He barely understood how he felt, and he would have to get a read on Sharon first; gauge her reaction before he took the risk. He didn't expect reciprocation, no, but again, he wouldn't jeopardise their wonderful connection just because of his silly feelings.

With a firm resolve to be more self-aware, Andy put the car in gear and pulled away, heading home for the night. He was still elated to know his heart had found genuine companionship once again, but he was conscious not to expose himself too foolishly. Of all things, he did not want to put Sharon in the firing line. Still, he was almost certain that one day, with such a close bond, they would find a way to have an honest discussion about his recent discovery. And one day he also hoped to find out where her heart found happiness. That would be his greatest achievement; figuring out her mystery.


	3. On Calmer Seas

_I was going to draw this out, but I think 3 chapters is just nice enough, and I have so many other WOPs (all of which will benefit from this 30 day MC Challenge, I promise)._

_The final instalment. All fluff, all Shandy, all the time. _

**On Calmer Seas**

It was officially getting ridiculous between them. He could feel the rising tension just being in the room with her, and he was certain that it had nothing to do with their behaviour; he was projecting. His palms would sweat and he'd start imagining that her cheeks were flushed; his throat would get thick and he'd see her swallow a lump in hers. It was completely in his mind, and yet all-consuming. Still, it wasn't fair to either of them to continue like this. Sharon was eternally patient with him, and regardless of how she felt she was allowing him to call the shots, giving him the space to work himself out. Which would have been wonderful, if only he'd known what on earth he wanted.

No, not true, he knew what he wanted in the end. But he was plagued with crippling doubt – not just about himself, but about the timing, and frankly the logistics. She was newly divorced, which was emotionally wrought no matter the circumstances. And she was still his boss; this was not an easy fling to give a try and then walk away from if it all went pear shaped. They had to be sure. And he was, truly, he was sure, but life had a funny way of throwing sticks under skateboards, and things had finally become stable in his life. Things were good. Was it too much to ask for just a little bit more?

Sweet lord, he was a basket case. It would be so much easier if she just told him to take a flying leap and be done with it; leave him to brood in certain rejection rather than get caught in what-ifs and maybes.

He was absolutely frustrated with himself, and it was beginning to show in his everyday mannerisms and little motions. He had been restless in his seat and short with even Sykes, who had done nothing to provoke his ire. Sharon, of course, took it all in stride and seemed positively amused by him, which had everyone wondering what the secret was; what did she know that they didn't.

It was no secret, really, she merely didn't allow Andy's mood to affect her. He had been increasingly erratic these past few months, oscillating wildly between sweetly attentive and madly distant. She had a thought as to what was going on, but would never presume to call him out on it – he was doing so well at become more comfortable with his emotions, and she wouldn't want to undermine that progress.

Still, if the rest of the team was starting to suffer…

She was shaken from her reverie by the firm knock on the door, and looked up quite startled to see Andy walk inside with a stormy expression. He immediately schooled himself, and to his credit it seemed like he truly didn't mean to come across as so combative.

"Andy" she said softly, gesturing to the chair in front of her. He didn't take it, but he did relax just a fraction, her tone conveying that it was okay to get personal in this moment. She was happy to be his friend if he needed that.

"Hi"

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice low and kind. It was the same tone she used when trying to teac h Rusty the finer points of emotional maturity, and it should have felt offensive that she seemed to equate him to the boy, but his behaviour spoke for itself. He was acting emotionally immature, and he did deserve a lecture or stern word. Why, it was not as though he'd never been in love before – he should be handling himself a might better than he was, not least because she was his friend and deserved as much. Still, be that as it may, he was a bit lost in this case. Perhaps because he was not the expectant pursuer? He had been blind-sighted quite thoroughly.

"I'm just sorting out some stuff" he said, waving off her concern. Sorting out stuff indeed. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes; could he really not see? Did he really think the sky would collapse if he just approached her like an adult instead of this ridiculous dance?

"Can I help you with anything?" she asked, prodding him again.

He finally met her eyes, which was one step better than ignoring her at least. He sighed to himself and his mouth quirked in a self-conscious grin. He seemed to be wrestling with what to say, and given the work day was winding down, the weekend looming, he had a short window in which his courage would stick. In the end he didn't make any confrontation, but instead just settled for a very loving look and a nervous twitch.

"Would you like to go… to dinner… with me… tonight" he stuttered out. It was a vague offer, and not very remarkable considering the countless other meals they had shared, but it was a start. If there were further intentions behind the offer they either weren't obvious or she was gracious enough to remain neutral so he could gather his footing.

"Of course I would" she said with a pleased smile, closing the lid of her laptop and slipping it into her handbag on the floor by her feet. "I'm ready to go right now, in fact, if that suits you. I was just packing up"

In a quick flash she was out of her seat and pulling her jacket from where it hung over the back of her chair, swinging her arms into the sleeves and flicking her hair from the collar. She smiled at him like she was aware of his secret and it unnerved him, but he didn't say anything. For months he had been dealing with these back and forth looks with her. Once upon a time he'd enjoyed them; now it gave him the distinct impression that she was aware of him, fully cognisant of his muddled mind. But then, such a thing was completely within the realm of possibility. She was incredibly perceptive.

Well, fantastic, now he had a mind reader to deal with. Just what he wanted. And if she was… what then, with all her kind looks and smiles and touches on his arm? If she knew, why do such a thing? To tease him? To reassure him that she wouldn't judge his folly? Or was it her own form of reassurance? And thus his mind spiralled into another endless cycle of uncertainty.

She picked up her large handbag and hung it from her shoulder, and like that she was out the door, and he was left blinking into an empty room, wondering just how many times his head had to spin before it reoriented itself. He followed her blindly. He had already packed up his own desk for the weekend, his computer off. Provenza was hanging back finishing his paperwork, and Tao was lingering over a program he was running, but the two of them would leave soon too.

"Goodnight" called Sharon, waving at them both as she strode from her office to the elevator bank, and they echoed her sentiment but didn't look up or pay much heed when Andy followed her, his hands buried in his pockets.

He hadn't thought this out very well. It was a realisation that made itself obvious when they rode downstairs in the elevator together and had to part ways to get their respective cars. He would offer to drive her, but then she would be stuck with him again – the same predicament the night he realised his feelings – and anyway, it was the weekend and she needed her car. But to part company and meet up again felt so casual, which was decidedly not the tone of the night he was trying to strike. Good god, he was awful at this subtlety thing; if only he had the balls to just ask her outright.

The least he could do was pick a place, after all it was his invitation, and as muddled as he thought the message got, he still considered this dinner to be different somehow.

"Burmese?" he asked, knowing the Burmese place they frequented was a favourite of hers. It was a lovely restaurant – slightly more expensive, and small, so it was always dimly lit and filled with well-dressed patrons. He'd taken her there the night of the Nutcracker, because it had seemed right to treat her that night, and the beans-with-egg concoction was absolutely to die for.

"That sounds perfect" she answered enthusiastically. "I'll follow you"

"I'll see you there"

The car ride at least gave him a moment to regroup and smack himself silly for brooding so deeply. There was no need to ruin a perfectly good friendship over this, after all, even if his attempt to subtly move this further went unnoticed.

He managed to at least act like a normal functioning human once they got to the restaurant. They tailed each other the whole way, so he could walk her from her car to the front door, and opened the door for her and everything. He was a complete gentleman, pulling out her chair and helping her out of her jacket, and even if his feelings were not reciprocated – an answer he couldn't devise at this moment in time – he could at least say he'd done his utmost.

The routine of sitting and sharing a meal with her calmed his nerves considerably, and the soft ambient lighting made it feel less of a sham to be smiling with her while keeping his feelings to himself. It was almost enough to make him forget himself and get lost watching her like he had so many other times. But tonight she was watching him intently, and so he couldn't let down his guard that much. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken she was watching him quite intently.

He was slowly working up his nerve as they picked at the last of their mains. They were both so obviously full – the meals were always huge and they always over-ordered – and neither was feeling like dessert or even coffee; it simply wouldn't fit. Sharon finally gave up the fight and placed her fork down on her plate, sitting back in an exaggerated huff, one hand landing softly on her stomach. "I'm so full"

He laughed at her and nodded, mimicking her own movement exactly and leaning back in his chair. The combination of soft light and a full stomach made him drowsy, which made him all the more comfortable. He was almost used to the pounding of his heart as he watched her, just as lazy and content as him, a soft smile on her face. She was captivating in this atmosphere. Romantic and mysterious; the lighting was soft like candles, and they had a little tea candle on the table between them as well, and the whole set up was a single rose shy of being positively suggestive. They asked for the bill when the waiter came over to take their plates away, and then silence once again reigned, and it was pure bliss to be sitting with her in such a warm space.

Perhaps it was because of the whole situation that he was feeling emboldened, but no matter the reason his courage finally won out, and he adjusted himself, leaning forward again to rest his elbows on the table, getting closer to her more for intimacy than for privacy.

"Listen, Sharon" he started, his voice very soft, and she watched him with great intensity, that same all-knowing smile glinting at the corner of her mouth and her eyebrows rising in acknowledgement. He ignored that and pressed on before he chickened out for the last, maddening time. "Tonight… I mean… when I asked you to come tonight…"

She was smiling at him in the kindest, gentlest way, so understanding and yet he couldn't fathom what she would understand about this situation. As far as he was concerned, she had it all wrong – they were here under false presences. And yet, she had not done or said anything that would dissuade him, and she was a very suggestive person. It would have been easy for her to steer a million little moments in a different direction and let that be that. But she hadn't.

"This was supposed to be a date" he blurted out finally, relieved just to have said the words without further stumbling and miscommunication. She didn't move or flinch or wince, or any of the number of little gestures he had steeled himself for, and meeting her eyes was still the easiest thing in the world, so he took that as a good sign. "A proper one – you know, an actual date"

She continued to smile at him, her expression barely changing except for a slight raise of her eyebrows, again, which made her look all the more like she was laughing at him, again, and he couldn't quite figure out what she thought was going on, again. So he stayed silent this time, hoping she would enlighten him, or at the very least put him out of his misery and ask to be allowed to go home.

"Andy" she drawled softly, the timber of her voice suddenly low and very intimate. "I know"

He started to speak and promptly stopped himself, the funniest of expressions crossing his face, like a puppy being asked a question – all big eyes and cocked head and little divots between his brows like he couldn't quite figure what was happening to him. He ran all the moments through his mind and her answer suddenly sounded loaded – full of nuance that told him he had been reading this wrong all this time.

"And you… but you… you said yes"

She giggled at him then, and he never believed he would attribute giggles to her, but no, they were high and light and although the quality of her voice still made them smoky, those were definitely giggles, directed at him. "Yes I did" she said with a wide, closed-mouth smile, pursing her lips in obvious amusement.

"But… so then…"

And he stopped himself there, because he wouldn't push his confusion any further, it might spook her into thinking he wasn't jumping out of his skin. Which he was, tenfold, because good lord, she was on a date. With him. And they were both aware of it. He couldn't contain the grin on his face, or the way he eyed her dead on, understanding now that she was not playing coy, she was waiting for him to get a grip on himself and finally admit what was happening to them.

"I've had a wonderful evening" she said, breaking his silence. She was just… beyond words. She was exquisite to him; sitting there, calm as anything, just enjoying her meal and patiently awaiting his own reality check. God, and to think all this time he had been so unsure – been erratic and frenetic. And she was there, she was right there in front of him, and she was divine.

"So have I" he breathed with palpable relief, sagging comically like Atlas without the world on his back. She grinned wider at him and he knew he was completely sunk; she had him pegged from go to woe, and he was an absolute sucker for it.

"I'm sad to see it end" she said, and honestly sounded regretful for having to bring it up. But the night had run its natural course – to linger now would feel forced, and they were both too full from dinner to offer an ice cream or even a hot drink. She could ask him back to her place, but that sounded a little too suggestive, and anyway, Rusty was home and the mood would not be the same. To end it now would be to say goodnight on a high note.

As if by serendipity the check was placed on their table, and he took it with a warning look to her; they may have had a standing one-for-one arrangement for payments before, but this was his date damn it and he was going to execute it perfectly. For her part she simply allowed him, and it was nice to be treated once in a while. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to be pampered, and even this small gesture felt nice. She smiled at him and he felt bare and exposed to her; her constant attention was disarming now that he knew the root of it.

Once the bill was finalised he stood and came around to pull out her chair for her, and help her put her jacket on. Like he had a million times before, he allowed his hands to linger just briefly on her shoulders, like a settling gesture. She leaned imperceptibly closer to him, and yet the gentle sway of her body set every one of his nerves ablaze, so conscious of the exact distance between his chest and her back; between the top of her head and his lips. The itch to simply hold her was practically unbearable.

They proceeded to the door without words where he again held it open for her, and she smiled at him but didn't speak.

"I'll walk you to your car" he muttered, more of a mumble than an actual polite suggestion. The tension coursing through his body now held a different note, just as heady and distracting as the last but at least less hectic. This tension was one-track.

They reached her car, just a couple of spots from his own, and she made a show of searching for her keys in her purse. She now seemed as frazzled as him, and he realised that the moment must have caught up to her too. She was practically vibrating with nervous energy, fumbling past her wallet and her laptop, not meeting his eye for fear that it would give her away totally, or she would fall into a heap at having this whole thing resolved. Except it was not resolved, only acknowledged, and while it was a step in the right direction, it was not a recipe for a restful night sleep at this rate.

She was shocked out of her skin when she felt his finger under her chin. He coaxed her to look at him, and though the gesture could have been full of bravado he was no better than her really. More focused but just as skittish, and even that comparison did no justice to the two of them. My, they must have looked like teenagers, the pair, standing by her car wondering how to end the night. Wondering if it would end the way they wanted.

And with that thought alone – no way was she going to start this with silly regrets and misgivings just because she was out of practice – she placed a hand on his cheek and leaned in with purpose. She still remembered how to do this; get near, most of the way, hold his eyes, and wait for him to close the distance. A friend had taught her that in school, back when they used to play scenarios in the girl's bathroom just to make sure they would be ready for the big moment. And oh, was she ready now.

And Andy too, apparently. He watched her come closer, her breath on his lips, her hand burning through his jaw bone, and all at once the hand under her chin cupped behind her neck and he bridged the gap between them.

The kiss could only be described as swooping – a single motion in which they collided and aligned in one. They were still in a public car park, and therefore contained themselves, but it still roared with the fire of a thousand suns, and when she let out a faint little sigh he took that as a personal victory. He held them there for as long as they could feasibly allow. It felt superb, and where before his heart was pounding and his stomach was in knots, suddenly everything melted away and it was just them, and his soul had found rest in the knowledge that this did, after all, have a future.

When they parted he breathed a sigh, and she was panting only slightly, but enough to bring colour to her cheeks and to forgo her usual demeanour of carefully crafted calm.

She met his gaze, the both of them dazed and still a bit out of joint, reality not quite catching up. They smiled at each other, and leaned in again for a lighter, softer kiss. This one felt wholly like the promise of more to come and the reassurance that once was definitely not enough. Not nearly enough. They parted once more and grinned stupidly at one another, caught in the air of tranquillity around them that buzzed with possibility.

"Tonight was lovely" she whispered to him. He could not contain himself for the entire world; he laughed at her heartily, and because he felt he could, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her close. He could feel her chuckling into his chest. Oh, she was a delight.

"Shall we do it again sometime?" he asked her as she slowly extracted herself from him with a smile.

"Oh, most definitely" she said, unlocking her car, opening the door and flinging her bag inside. She stopped with her hand resting on the top of the door, her body angled half inside. "In fact, I think we should do it again over the weekend, provided nothing else comes up"

He smiled so wide and sincere at her that she blushed. To cap it off he stepped close and planted one last, quick kiss on her lips, chaste if not for the ones that preceded it. He so often took her aback with how blatant his feelings were on his face and in his eyes, and now she felt like she had a new language of his body to lean. It was exciting and terrifying, and unsurprisingly the thought of that journey calmed her spirit. Love, it seemed, was a balm, not a rush.

"It's a date" he drawled, throwing his hands in his pockets. She only smirked at him and then slumped gracefully into the driver's seat. He helped push her door closed and they looked at each other a moment longer through the window. Then he stepped back from the car and she turned the ignition, and he waved as she drove away, the anticipation of an encore seeing him all the way home and into a tranquil and dreamless sleep, the tingle of her lips on his echoing well past consciousness.


End file.
